Four hours earlier, at the precise moment Kaori arrived for the council meeting, Kiligaku and Kaile stepped through the shimmering portal into the Hayashi Paradise.
The air that greeted them was thick with the scent of damp earth and rampant vegetation. They stood in the husk of a city being strangled by nature. Emerald vines coiled like serpents around the skeletons of skyscrapers, their glass facades shattered by the relentless push of tree roots. Pavements were fractured mosaics through which wild grasses surged, and the interiors of hollowed-out buildings were dark gardens, alive with the rustle of unseen things. It was a vision of Earth not in ruins, but in reclamation, a world from which humanity had been meticulously erased, leaving its architecture to be slowly digested by the wild.
Kaile's breath caught in her throat. "Uh… what is this place?" she whispered, her voice swallowed by the profound silence. "Is this supposed to be Earth?"
Beside her, Kiligaku surveyed the scene with calm, analytical eyes. "Hmm. Well, that tracks, I guess."
"'Tracks'?" Kaile turned to him, her confusion sharpening. "What part of this 'tracks' for you?"
"I already knew what to expect," he said, his gaze following the sinuous path of a creeper engulfing a streetlamp. "The AI briefed me on this realm's parameters."
Memory clicked for Kaile—his lack of surprise when she'd first mentioned training here. "That explains your non-reaction back then. Mind enlightening the rest of the class?"
Kiligaku nodded, gesturing to the cathedral of overgrowth around them. "To put it simply, this realm was created in 2003. Its galaxies are exact copies of the Milky Way as it was in that year. The only elements not replicated were the fauna. No humans, no animals. Just the stage, left to run without human involvement anymore."
"Ah." Understanding dawned on her face. "Like the Earths in our academy temporal tests, but… quite old. Those looked freshly created. This one has had decades for nature to start claiming back its territory"
As Kaile observed the dense, silent forest reclaiming a highway overpass, a deeper curiosity unsettled her. "You know, it makes me wonder. If our top-tier Captains have records of creating or destroying infinite sized realms , it starts to… diminish the scale of the Flaming Being's feat. The histories say He created the Delay Universe. But if creation on that scale is replicable, what makes His act so singular?"
Kiligaku crossed his arms, his expression turning serious. "You're right about the raw creative and destructive power. But the Delay Universe isn't just a realm; it's a law. Or more accurately possesses a unique law. A filter that prevents the Zunans from manifesting directly into our primary universe. I'm not sure if any of our Captains could pull off something like that. We still understand so little about what the Zunans are, let alone how to permanently alter the rules of engagement with them."
"So what do you think?" Kaile pressed, her eyes searching the cloudy sky. "Will we ever understand? For centuries, it's been a static war. Zunans form, we cull them within 48 hours. Our entire society, our purpose, is built on the assumption that the crisis is eternal, just like the cycle of human birth and death. What happens to us to soldiers if it ends? It's like asking when humans will stop breathing. The question feels… heretical."
"That's precisely why I seek strength," Kiligaku stated, his voice low and firm. "Not every soldier secretly wishes for peace. Think about it. A doctor helps the sick but his value is tied to disease; a coffin-maker's to mortality. Our purpose is bound to the problem we solve. If the Zunans vanished, a sense of worthlessness would open in many. A loss of purpose breeds chaos. I want to be strong enough to enforce order in that chaos, to stand firm when the foundation shifts."
Kaile absorbed his words, a hollow feeling growing in her own chest. "I see. So that's your anchor. I imagine Pathro's is similar."
"In a way. He believes strength is the ultimate currency of influence. That people, consciously or not, orbit the strongest and adopt their direction. He's not wrong. His goal is to become a gravitational center, a man who people look upto when a situation arrives."
A quiet introspection fell over Kaile. 'These guys have such profound, calculated reasons for chasing power. They're building philosophies. And me? I just run, desperate not to be left behind by the people I call friends. Does that mean… I have no real reason to be a soldier at all?'
Kiligaku's hand fell on her shoulder, breaking her reverie. "We should get started, Prez. Otherwise, we'll waste all four hours on existential debates."
She blinked, refocusing. "Right."
---
Meanwhile, the vibrant, relentless pulse of Lagos, Nigeria, beat under the morning sun. Pathro, Toshiro, and Kasumi moved through the human current of a downtown sidewalk, a trio of outsiders in a flowing sea of activity. The air hummed with commerce, conversation, and the constant bleat of traffic.
"So," Kasumi asked, her eyes scanning the crowd, "what's the actual plan for investigating these rich guys? Bursting into their mansions seems… counterproductive."
Pathro smirked. "Obviously. Kasumi, if you need information from someone and want them to stay quiet, what's the most effective method?"
Without hesitation, she replied, "Isolation and coercion. Torture in a secure location, or leverage against a loved one. Efficient."
Pathro stared at her, his smirk fading into flat disbelief. "Seriously? Out of all the tools in the box, you go straight for the power drill?"
She shrugged, pragmatic. "We're soldiers. We're trained for direct application of pressure when necessary."
"Yeah, but 'necessary' is the key," Pathro sighed, pulling a folded stack of local currency from his pocket. He fanned the bills thoughtfully. "No need for trauma when you have this. Money has a quieter, more persuasive power."
Toshiro's eyes narrowed as he calculated. "It's a powerful tool, but for what question? And to whom? We need a target."
"I… hadn't drilled that far down," Pathro admitted, his confidence wavering slightly. "I figured the conversation would flow once we found the right person."
"A more tactical approach," Toshiro suggested calmly, "would be to assume their operation is ongoing. Our objective should be to discover their next target."
Kasumi looked puzzled. "That assumes we find someone actually in the know. A foot soldier, not a financier."
Pathro's eyes, subtly glowing with a faint crimson hue, flickered to the opposite side of the busy street. "A large criminal organization always has watchers. Low-profile snoops blending in, alert for interference… like that man in the grey hoodie across the road who's been mirroring our turns for a while now. "
Kasumi and Toshiro didn't turn. Their postures imperceptibly tightened.
"He could just be commuting," Kasumi murmured, though her tone betrayed doubt.
"We do stand out," Toshiro conceded quietly. "We are, conspicuously, not from here."
"I have been sensing him the entire time, but might just be a coincidence. Let's confirm," Pathro said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial register. "Next alley. If he follows, he's not just a coincidence."
They turned abruptly into a narrow service passage between two towering commercial buildings, swallowed by shadow. Across the street, the man in the hoodie glanced up from his phone. He hesitated, then swiftly crossed the road, thumb already dialing a contact saved as BOSS. The call began to ring as he entered the alley's mouth.
He found it empty. "How could they…?" he muttered, peering down the length of the confined space.
A hand like iron clamped over his mouth, silencing his gasp. Another seized his jacket, and the world became a blur of vertigo as he was hauled upwards with terrifying speed. The alley walls raced past, then he was over the roof's ledge, dumped onto the sterile, wind-swept helipad of the skyscraper. The city sprawled below, silent and distant. No one from below could actually see what was happening on top of the skyscraper based on the design.
Standing over him was Pathro, whose normally playful eyes now held a terrifying, molten intensity. Behind him, Toshiro and Kasumi stood like statues of judgment, their stares cold enough to freeze blood.
The phone, still pressed to the man's ear, finally connected. "Hello?" a gruff voice demanded.
Pathro leaned down, his whisper a blade of sound in the Nigerian language, flawless and chilling. "Pick up. Tell him nothing is wrong. I understand every word you say. Your next breath depends on your performance."
The man stared up into those glowing red irises, his bowels turning to water. The promise of instant, unimaginable violence was as palpable as the wind.
"Hey, I said hello!" the voice on the phone barked, impatient.
Toshiro nudged the phone with his foot. Trembling, the man brought it to his ear. "Y-yes, Boss! I called to report!" he stammered, sweat beading on his brow. "I was… I was following those Japanese visitors you mentioned. They seem to be normal tourists. Just sightseeing." The lie felt flimsy, screamed into the void.
"I see. Don't stop your surveillance. You understand?" the Boss ordered.
"Yes, Boss."
"I don't want some damned Japanese soldiers sniffing around our operation. Keep your eyes sharp."
The line went dead.
Pathro's menacing smile returned, devoid of any warmth. "Well. From your boss's own words, you're part of a kidnapping ring. I do hope you have a compelling reason. Otherwise, I can't guarantee you'll enjoy the rest of today or your life for that matter."
A heavy silence hung, broken only by the distant hum of the city.
Toshiro took a single step forward, his voice a calm, deadly whisper. "Who is your boss? Where are the girls being held?"
The man scrambled to his knees, hands raised in supplication. "I don't know! I swear on my life, I wasn't part of the kidnappings! They forced me! Please, don't kill me!"
"Forced you how?" Kasumi's question was a sharp whip-crack.
"My wife…" The man's voice broke, genuine anguish twisting his features. "She was taken two months ago. They called me. They said if I didn't cooperate, they'd kill her. They made me a lookout, a messenger… I didn't want to, but what choice did I have?!"
Pathro's head tilted, skepticism etched in his expression. "How did they contact you? And why save him in your phone as 'Boss' if you don't know him?"
"I don't know how they got my number! After she vanished, they called. They arranged a dead-drop for this phone. The contact was already saved. 'BOSS.' That's all I know!"
'An insulated network', Pathro thought. 'Untraceable through normal channels. Cautious for guys who gave me an impression of being cocky.'
Toshiro's gaze remained icy. "You assume she's still alive. They could be using a two-month-old video. You're disposable to them."
"No!" the man insisted, a flicker of desperate pride showing. "She's alive. They send me proof, pictures, videos with current dates. Even I'm not a foolish enough to simply do all this without ensuring she's alive."
"But you are a fool," Pathro said, his voice losing its theatrical menace, becoming almost pitying. "It's been more than sixty days. Do you think this transaction ever ends with her returned? You think there's a quota of evil that, once met, earns you mercy? You're their tool until you break, and then you're discarded."
The man's defiance crumbled into raw despair. "You wouldn't understand! You have no idea what these men do to the ones they take! Most are slaughtered like animals! Just knowing she's breathing, that I'm doing something to keep her heart beating… you wouldn't understand! You're soldiers, trained to kill and torture when necessary!, you couldn't possibly understand what a man would do for a woman she loves. I did it for someone I love!" His voice dropped to a shattered whisper. "I'll carry the guilt for every innocent girl that died due to my involvement. But I did it for her."
The confession hung in the air, a toxic mix of love and atrocity.
Then, a guttural sound tore from Kasumi. "You… you selfish piece of shit!"
She moved like a released spring, fist pulled back, knuckles white, aimed for his face. It was a blow fueled by a sudden, volcanic fury they had never seen in her. Pathro's hand shot out, intercepting her wrist an inch from its target, holding her with immovable strength.
Both he and Toshiro stared, stunned by the violent eruption from their usually composed comrade.
"Let me go!" Kasumi snarled, straining against his grip, her whole body trembling. "Let me hit him!"
"Stand down, soldier," Pathro commanded, his voice firm but laced with new concern.
Kasumi's furious gaze met his, and what he saw there made his grip soften. Not just anger, but a well of profound, personal pain. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, raw and vulnerable.
Pathro didn't ask for an explanation. Not here, not now. In one fluid motion, he released her wrist and pulled her into a firm, grounding embrace, turning her away from the weeping man on the ground.
"It's okay, Kasumi," he murmured, his earlier menace entirely gone, replaced by a steady, protective solidity. "It's going to be okay."
Over her shoulder, his eyes met Toshiro's. They held a silent, shared understanding. The mission had just become more complex. They weren't just hunting criminals anymore; they were navigating the deep, hidden wounds of their own team.